


Prism

by SilenceoftheLlamas



Series: Soulmate AU [1]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Ambiguous Relationship, Hinted Onni/Reynir, Hinted Sigrun/Tuuri, Other, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 22:59:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10319225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceoftheLlamas/pseuds/SilenceoftheLlamas
Summary: On your sixteenth year, a mark appears on your body that reveals the personality of your soulmate. Upon physical contact, your soulmate is revealed to you.Snapshots of the expedition into the Silent World from the eyes of Lalli and Emil.





	

Lalli was eight years old when Onni gained his mark, a little brown dog nestled inside his elbow. His parents had been ecstatic about their son finally growing up, and grandmother had given a rare smile as she patted it approvingly.

"They suit you." She had said.

Onni had kept it hidden beneath his sleeve, private and for his eyes only.

Lalli was fourteen when Tuuri gained her mark.

Her parents were not able to express their joy, but Onni was happy enough to cry when the violet flowers first bloomed on her shoulder.

"They're beautiful." He had hiccuped between his tears.

Tuuri had tried to show it off whenever she could.

Lalli was sixteen when his own mark appeared, burning its way into his flesh behind his ear. He had been scouting at the time, high up in the canopy as he avoided a beast snuffling in the underbrush below him. He had bitten down on his fingers and clamped a hand over it to stop his sounds of agony. No one else had been hurt so badly when theirs had appeared, their tears were ones of happiness at their other half being revealed to them.

Not him. His tears were ones of pain and agony.

When he had staggered home that morning, eyes bleary and grimacing from the throbbing ache, he stared at it in a mirror until it clicked what it was.

A sun. An animated sun, the colours flickering as they would in reality.

No wonder it hurt.

Onni had come down a moment later when he didn't hear Lalli come upstairs and slump in his room, quickly turning his face to get a better look.

"They are not a Mage." Was all he said.

Lalli didn't know why that mattered.

After a few days, the throbbing ache settled into being simply a dull thud, matching his heartbeat. A few days after that, it was gone. Lalli wasn't sure if that was simply because he was used to it, but he didn't see the point in dwelling on that. It didn't affect his work.

On the nights when the beasts were particularly vicious, and when Lalli was struggling to recall the runo he needed to get home safely, he would simply touch the little sun and close his eyes, taking in its warmth and comfort to calm himself and clear his mind.

On nights when he was wrapped up in his blankets under his bed, being given the shift off, he would feel phantom sensations of emotions trickle around him. Happiness briefly bubbling in his stomach, sadness slowly consuming him, fear clawing at his chest. He didn't know what to do with these, so he'd lock them up in a little box at the back of his mind to deal with later.

He never did.

* * *

 

Emil was precisely sixteen years old when he felt a chilling sensation spreading throughout his chest.

It radiated from his left breast, slowly spreading out and chilling him to the core.

He had been in a lesson at the time; after quickly excusing himself, he had ran to the bathroom and stripped off his shirt, clinging onto the sink as he watched with awe as the mark materialised, bubbling to the surface.

It was a beautiful moon, barely obscured by wispy clouds upon a backdrop of inky black sky and a sprawl of stars.

He was immensely proud of it, despite the chill it caused him. When he returned to his lesson, head held high, he proudly announced his findings.

His parents were immensely pleased, although they didn't let Emil see their fear and worry. What if his soulmate was of a lower social standing? What if his soulmate wasn't Swedish? And God forbid, what if they were _Pagan?!_

But seeing the delighted grin on their sons face was enough to soothe their worries for the time being.

It had taken two weeks for Emil to feel warm again, but he did not seem to mind a bit. "I feel closer to them when I am cold." He had insisted.

And thus began his habit of walking without his coat.

After he had caught his third cold, his parents put a quick stop to that nonsense.

Sometimes, at night, Emil would awaken to feel foreign emotions fluttering around his heart. Uncertainty. Apprehension. Dread. Fear. He wasn't sure why, but he knew that they were not his own and so they had to belong to the person on the other end of his soul mark. Part of him wondered what they had received - perhaps a stack of books, being the academic that he was? Or maybe a horse, the symbol of Mora?

Sometimes his fingers would tentatively brush the mark on the days when he needed a pick me up, a little comfort. On the days when he wanted to share his happiness with his other half. On the days when things became just a little bit too much and he needed to unload.

He felt horribly selfish, and so he tried his very best to share his happy times more often.

During his cleanser training, his fingers found that mark all the more often, and he felt the others emotions more often. He hoped that she was happy, wherever she was, and that she was okay.

* * *

 

Lalli found them to be rather irritating.

When the mark had first appeared, they were rather quiet. Not much was exchanged. Then, slowly, they began to share more and more until they were sharing something every day, regardless as to whether or not Lalli had done anything.

When he had asked Onni if there was a way to contact them and tell them to _shut the hell up,_ he had simply shaken his head and informed him that he wished there were.

Tuuri had been upset at the notion of telling the other person to stop, but they suspected that she rather enjoyed the attention that was lavished on her as her job became rather dire at times and it never served as a life threatening distraction.

For them, however, it _did_ and it _had_.

Lalli had lost precious seconds to faltering due to an onslaught of emotion; Onni had become distracted in his warding and missed potential flaws. But as there was no way to communicate the words 'stop fucking distracting me', they had to hope that simply telling them of their frustration would have to be enough. Rarely was it.

Lalli decided that he did not like his soulmate, and that he hoped he would never have to meet them.

Tuuri looked fit to cry at that revelation over dinner one evening, her pea soup forgotten on her lap as she insisted that he couldn't do that to himself. That he had to find them. When he had pointed out that Onni still hadn't ten years after gaining his first mark, she had fallen silent and had sullenly returned to her soup. It was true; Onni still had no idea who it could be, but he knew they did not come from Finland. The dog was not a familiar one, and the landscapes that followed showed no trees and exposed stone. The sheep were not of their home. Onni had said they were most likely Icelandic; there was very little chance they would ever meet.

That was a sad thought for Onni, Lalli couldn't help but think. His cousin had always looked sad.

* * *

 

The journey wasn't so bad, Emil supposed as he disembarked the train. It was just the waiting now that twisted his gut and made him feel sick.

He had to make a good first impression.

His hopes were dashed when he awoke to find that the Finns had already arrived, his aunt and uncle seeing fit to let him sleep more than fix his appearance and make himself appear presentable. An act made even more treasonous when he realised that his front was spattered with spilled food.

When _that_ had happened he had no idea, however it meant that his first impression was _ruined_.

Oh, oh _dear_.

Not that it had mattered too much. Tuuri was the only one to notice it, and at their physical contact there was no rush of adrenaline, no sensation of being. Tuuri was not who he was linked to, and for that he was grateful. The other Finn, Lalli, had barely glanced at him before slumping somewhere as he held his stomach and gnashed his teeth with his nausea. It was only on the train when Lalli had taken any notice of him, and by then Emil had already made his impression.

A messy, messy Swede.

It was at his cousin’s house – or as Torbjörn insisted on calling it, _headquarters_ , that Lalli seemed to liven up more. He had been rather sedate the entire walk there, trailing behind Tuuri and running away from any human contact (although the incident in the patisserie was rather hysterical). But one moment he had been sat in the living room come radio station, and the next he had bolted out the door. While Tuuri was preoccupied with rummaging through the tools his uncle had given her, Emil went after Lalli.

He caught himself in the hallway, hand flying to his chest. He felt a prickling sensation spreading from where the moon was embedded into his chest, and before he could stop himself he was sprinting into the downstairs bathroom to inspect it.

Lalli was hunched over the sink, one hand clutching the edge of the basin as if it were the only thing keeping him upright while his other hand was clamped onto his neck, red blooming beneath his fingers as his eyes squeezed shut and he sucked in ragged breaths.

The only thing that stopped Emil from jumping forward to check to see if he was hurt was that it just didn’t look like blood. The red was bright, too bright to be fresh blood, and it hadn’t spread to anything else. No, it was a soul mark forming on his neck.

And suddenly, he realised that he had stepped in on a very, very private and very, very intimate moment.

Lalli slowly cracked his eyes open, startling when he noticed Emil behind him. His eyes eased shut again as he leaned his forehead against the mirror, breath fogging the glass.

Emil ran out.

The Dalahästen was going to be awkward, and Emil could just feel it. One didn’t recover from that so easily, especially when you couldn’t even apologise. Part of him cursed Lalli for not knowing Swedish (how could he not know it!), but he knew that Lalli was probably thinking the same of him.

So he kept his mouth shut.

Thankfully, the bathroom upstairs was blessedly empty so he had slipped inside and lifted up his layers to get a better look at his chest. On either side of the moon were stems laden with white bell-shaped flowers. Emil didn’t know what they were called, but he supposed he could always ask someone later. Gingerly, he ran his fingers over them, awe bubbling up in his chest.

When he came back downstairs, Trobjörn informed him that they were leaving. Lalli was the first out the door, ignoring Tuuri’s attempts to get him under an umbrella, and with every step Emil saw a flash of red peering over his collar.

It had taken over his neck, whatever it was.

Once on the train, however, Emil got a better look at it.

Bright, bright red roses. They were beautiful, and Emil felt slightly jealous. Lalli had such colourful marks, ones that screamed life and energy and fire, and his own were so muted and neutral.

Despite their moment earlier, Lalli was more than happy to share a bunk with him. He’d even somewhat accepted having his face roughly shoved into the pillow whilst Emil had tried to convey the concept of sleep to him.

And then, it happened.

The giant had ripped through the ceiling, sticking its mutated heads into the carriage. Thankfully it wasn’t one that was filled with his family and crewmates, but not so thankfully, he was in said carriage.

Without thinking, he had grabbed onto Lalli and tugged him towards him and away from the mass of convulsing flesh, hiding them away behind a massive man. They watched with impossibly wide eyes, but just what they saw was totally forgotten by Emil as his bare fingers brushed against Lalli’s face.

It felt like electricity. For a moment, everything was focused on that one touch; the feeling of skin on skin, the way it burned his fingers and sent waves of pure ecstasy straight through him.

He felt dazed.

Lalli didn’t seem to react.

* * *

 

Lalli couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He nearly stumbled as he tugged on his boots, his mind elsewhere and not focused on the task at hand.

Was that Swede his other half? His soul mate? The one the universe had decided was his partner? His mark still throbbed with electricity, the burn pleasant.

They couldn’t even _understand_ each other, how did _anyone_ expect them to even become friends?

But as he glanced up and saw them offer him his arm, unintelligible Swedish spilling out as he gestured for Lalli to use him for balance, he thought that maybe, just maybe, it could work.

If only he knew how to tell Emil that he had felt it, too. That it was no fluke.

Their first book hunt was a bust – he was exhausted. The thought of smushing their faces together did briefly flitter across his mind when Emil had randomly thrown his arm around his shoulders and pulled them together, giving the shouty red-haired woman an awkward smile and thumbs up, but it was quickly squashed down. No. He was _tired_ , damn it, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with the sparks the contact would create.

It took days for the opportunity to arise. He was alone with Emil, the sun just peering over the horizon as the Swede tipped hot water over his head. Shampoo was squirted into his hand as Emil blearily blinked, sleep thick in his eyes, and lathered up between his palms before he began to rub it into Lalli’s hair.

His fingers brushed against Lalli’s bare neck.

Lalli shot up straight as a gasp ripped from his chest, Emil almost falling head first into the tub.

Emil planted his hands on the tub for balance, his bottom lip held between his teeth.

“You must have felt that too.” He said. He wasn’t sure why, he wouldn’t be getting a reply.

Lalli didn’t reply, but he did lean back towards Emil, tilting his head back to look up at him with bright eyes.

“You’re the one who almost got me killed.” Lalli whispered to himself, fully aware (and glad) that Emil could not understand him.

“What do you mean _almost got you killed_?!” Tuuri demanded from the door to the tank, her facemask in place and maps in hand.

“Nothing.” Lalli sighed as Emil hesitantly returned to massaging the shampoo into his scalp. Tuuri gave him a strange look as he pushed his head into Emil’s hands, showing him where to rub.

His cousin had an exchange with Emil, the Swedes hands not faltering once as he continued to wash his hair. Nothing strange here, nope. Not at all.

Although from Tuuri’s tone, Emil had asked an odd question.

Not to matter; it probably wouldn’t come back to him any time soon.

* * *

 

“Could you teach me Finnish?” Emil had asked, his hands worrying the hem of his knitted jumper and his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip. Lalli looked at him quizzically.

“Why? You’ve already taught me Swedish.”

“I’d…” Emil looked down before his eyes flicked back to Lalli’s. “I’d like to learn it.”

Lalli wasn’t sure how good a teacher he would be. His fingers brushed against the roses on his neck, his head falling back to lean against the glass wall separating himself and Emil.

“I… I’ll try.”

They had two weeks in this quarantine hell, after all. May as well make use of it.

Across the hall they could see Reynir and Mikkel, Reynir having sprawled out on his bed with his pillow held in his arms as he nattered away to Mikkel about something or other. Mikkel didn’t appear to be listening, but that had never stopped Reynir before.

Tuuri and Sigrun, as the women of the crew, were held in a different area. Lalli wondered if Tuuri knew that Sigrun was her other half, the blossoms that sprawled over their captains leg a soft yellow that matched the paper they sprouted from.

In two weeks, Emil had gained a basic grasp on Finnish. He wasn’t good at it – gods, no, he was simply awful at it; but it was enough to warm Lalli through and for colour to bleed into the flowers that decorated Emil’s chest.

They’d left the boat in Iceland, a Swedish ship having arranged to allow them to board and bring them home. Reynir was supposed to have remained in Iceland, returning home to his family an accomplished mage, however they had found him in one of their supply crates.

“You’d better not have taken out some of the equipment in there.” Sigrun had threatened.

Reynir awkwardly laughed.

It took an hour to get Sigrun to stop dangling him over the side of the ship.

“I’m so glad you’re home safe.” Onni had said as he’d gathered Lalli and Tuuri into his arms, surprised that Lalli wasn’t wriggling away like a mischievous kitten for once. Lalli had simply buried his face into the meat of his older cousins shoulder, inhaling deeply.

He was so, so glad to be off the ship. He was so, so glad to finally be on solid ground, to not have to endure any transportation for the immediate future.

Part of him hoped that he could have stayed in Sweden forever, so long as it meant he never had to go on a boat ever again.

* * *

 

Emil could see why Lalli hated Reynir’s hair so much.

At first, his hatred of it had stemmed from jealousy. How could a simple farm boy who’d never spent a day out of work have such luscious hair?! But then, the shedding began.

Emil was finding it everywhere. It was in the drains of the shower at his cousin’s house, it covered the carpets and fabrics of the sofa. He was quite literally sweeping it up from the wooden floors of the house! Often he’d find a hairball and leap a good three feet in the air, screaming like a deranged pig because he’d thought it was a spider.

Hhmph!

Well, at least Lalli had found that _amusing_.

But now, it was Emil’s turn to be amused.

He had walked into the kitchen for breakfast, making a beeline for the kettle that was still steaming. Onni was already in there, sipping at the world’s weakest tea as he tried to properly wake himself. He was still slowly but surely recovering from his _magical exhaustion_ , as Lalli had put it. Apparently, because he’d damaged his luonto, his body would take a while to catch up.

It made little sense to Emil, but he had simply filed away that bit of information for later when he had time to unpack it and take a proper look at it. Maybe surrounded by books and rational people.

He was currently in a house of lunatics, so that was _not_ happening any time soon.

Then, the red haired menace tromped in.

Not Sigrun, no – she was out with Siv helping her do the weekly shop – it was _Reynir_.

He spouted something in Icelandic, getting a mumbled reply from Onni as the older man spared him a quick glance – more than he’d given Emil, the rude bastard – and grabbed himself a slice of toast from the loaded plate next to the toaster.

He slipped into the seat next to Onni, their knuckles briefly brushing.

Onni responded by launching his tea across the room, choking on his mouthful while Reynir yelped and almost fell out of his seat for how hard he jumped, upsetting his toast enough to throw it to the floor. Emil stood with the kettle in hand, giving them both a bewildered look.

“ _What?!_ ”

Tuuri snickered from the doorway, hand over her mouth.

Onni gave her an irritated look, standing up to deal with the shattered mug while Reynir tried to salvage what he could of his toast before accepting that Bosse had gotten to it first and collecting another slice.

“Oh!” Tuuri clapped her hands together suddenly as Emil handed her a mug of boiled water. “The date for the conference has been set. It’s a week from now!”

* * *

 

Conferences were boring, boring, boring, Lalli had decided.

He pulled at the sleeves of the stupid clothes he’d been made to wear. He’d been told that he could change into his military gear later on during the party, but while they were in front of the press he had to wear this stupid thing that Emil had called a suit.

The only thing that made it bearable was that Emil had allowed him to forgo the tie. Ties were his worst enemy.

Kisu was busy milking it from all of the adults present, her little pink ribbon adorned with a little golden bell that chimed with every step she took. It was very, very irritating but Tuuri had carefully kept Lalli away from her and someone had always scooped her up when it looked like Lalli was about to have another go at ripping the damn ribbon off.

“You can’t,” Emil had told him as he picked the kitten up to keep her out of the slush. “She has to look cute.”

“Why though?!” Lalli demanded.

“If she gets trained up properly, we can take her with us on our next expedition.” Emil had explained. “We have to make her look presentable and desirable.”

Next expedition sounded awfully optimistic, given how downhill their first had gone in a matter of weeks, but Lalli didn’t want to raise that particular point.

Soon enough, the party began and the reporters were released. None of them were too interested in Lalli – they all thought he was a monoglot who spoke solely Finnish – but they hounded Tuuri, Mikkel, Sigrun, and weirdly enough, Emil.

Reynir was prodded a few times by curious reporters, but after they realised that Reynir was more interested in just having a chat they had turned on the other four members of the crew.

Later on in the evening, once the reporters had their fill, Emil found his way to Lalli. He slipped into the seat next to him, a mug of what smelled strongly of fruit tea in his hand. Lalli accepted it as he handed it to him.

“They’re all _monsters_.” Emil groaned as he leaned back in his seat, almost spilling his own tea. It smelled of spices and apples.

“I’m glad they thought I was one.” Lalli replied into his mug, breathing in deeply.

Emil gave him a weird look. “I’m sure they don’t think that.”

“They did avoid me.”

“Probably thought you don’t speak Swedish.”

“I want them to continue to believe that.”

“Hmm, fair.” Emil sipped at his tea, wincing when it burned his tongue. He’d give that a few more minutes. “You really didn’t miss much.”

Lalli could feel eyes on them, and he looked out over the crowd to see who was watching them. He saw two blond adults who looked mysteriously like Emil staring him down, the pair exchanging whispered words together. Not that they needed to whisper –Lalli couldn’t hear them over the music.

“Are they your parents?” Lalli asked.

Emil glanced out over the crowd, his face falling when he spotted them.

“They are.” He audibly swallowed. “I think they’ve worked out who you are.”

Lalli frowned. “They know who I am. They met me earlier.”

“No, _who_ you are.”

It clicked in his head. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Probably.” Emil nervously licked his lips as he attempted another sip at his tea. “They’d expected you to be a girl.”

Oh.

Well, that was certainly a problem.

He brushed his fingers over the roses on his neck, watching Emil visibly relax into his seat with a sigh.

“Their problem.” Lalli replied as he braved his own tea. It was still hot, but not hot enough to burn him, so he happily drank it.

“This could get ugly.” Emil grimaced, giving Lalli a sympathetic glance as his parents began to weave through the crowd towards them. “I don’t blame you if you want to leave.”

Lalli stayed firmly seated. “I want to hear what they have to say.”

* * *

 

There had not been many kind words, but the haul from the expedition was more than enough to rent a quant little apartment in Mora, so Emil did just that. It put him closer to his cousins, Siv, and Torbjörn; it put him closer to the Mora branch of the cleaners. It put him closer to the ship that brought Lalli to Sweden and would eventually take him back to Finland. It put him further from his parents and their scathing words.

But Emil could see it in Lalli’s eyes. He missed his home. When he thought Emil wasn’t looking, he’d look longingly out over towards the station where they’d first met, where Finland was beyond the horizon. His fingers would trace erratic patterns on the wood of the windowsills, of the tables, of his bedpost. He would pick the stitches out of his clothes again and again, no matter how Emil had scolded him as he stitched them back up again.

Lalli had to go. He had told Emil once that he was a child of the forest, and Emil knew that he had to go back to them.

So when the press conferences for their expedition had wrapped up, when Mikkel had returned to Denmark a rich man and Sigrun Norway a hero, when Tuuri and Onni had packed their belongings and were heading to the station to return home, Emil had pushed Lalli’s bags into his hands and had told him to go.

Emil had stood at the dock as they set sail, waving back at Tuuri as she was corralled inside by the sailors. Lalli stood on the deck, his bag still slung over his shoulder. He ignored Tuuri and Onni calling for him.

Emil wondered when he’d be going inside. He didn’t want Lalli to remain out on the deck all night.

If he had blinked, he would have missed it and Lalli would have ended up in the water.

He had jumped.

The stupid, _stupid_ Finn had jumped out of the boat!

Emil yelped as he rushed forwards, arms thrown out to catch him.

“Förbannade finnjävel!” He yelled as he managed to get hold of Lalli, tugging him towards him and onto the dock. “ _Lalli_!”

“I’m not going.” Lalli said, muffled heavily by Emil’s coat.

“What?” Emil asked, stepping back and brushing Lalli down. “Lalli, you can’t-“

“I’m not going without you.” Lalli firmly replied, batting away his hands and stepping closer to him, grabbing fistfuls of his coat as he tucked his face into Emil’s shoulder.

“But what about Finland? What about your family?”

“Wherever you are is where my home is.” His hands gripped tighter. “I don’t want to be without you.”

Emil’s hands gripped onto Lalli’s back, the things in his bag digging into his hands. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

He didn’t think he’d ever let go.

**Author's Note:**

> The whole soulmate trope where they learn through body contact bothers me soooo much if clothes are involved. There’s no contact! There’s a barrier! Nnghh!  
> This was only meant to be ~1k... it's nearly 5k...


End file.
